Road Trip: Jackson

After graduating college, I lived in Jackson, Tennessee, home of the Golden Circle, Casey Jones Village, the Red Dog Saloon, and Carl Perkins. I secured a job with a local television station working evenings on three live broadcasts five days a week. The pay wasn't much but, as is often said, my foot was in the door.

I had attended college about thirty minutes away, so I was familiar with Jackson. It was the weekend getaway from the books and studying. It was the place to take a date on a Friday night. So, when I actually moved there I became more aware of what the city offered. I already understood I was comfortable here, so if the work stayed steady then this could become home.

Work became the reason I left there. The station had some ongoing legal issues and seemed poorly operated on a few levels. The main problem for me, and many of my co-workers, was the parent company would issue our checks late every other Thursday. Often, they told us to hold the check until Monday because the account they were drawing money from might not have enough funds to cover payroll. This happened enough times that summer that a few of us rewrote the lyrics to Terence Trent D'Arby's song, "Sign Your Name (Across My Heart)" to "Sign Your Name (Across My Check)." So, just before Thanksgiving, having located a job in my hometown, I moved back to Georgia.

Still, looking back I had about six months in Jackson. I rented my first apartment. The lady I rented from was named Annette, except she pronounced her name A-net. For my job, I covered a rodeo in nearby Lexington. I also covered an election in Union City, and the world's largest milkshake at the start of my college's fall semester. I hung out with friends. I waved to Carl Perkins in a catfish restaurant once. I learned a lot about myself in those days.

There were times I made a few road trips. When I was searching for a new job, I took several trips back to Georgia. Most of these were trips I made overnight. When my work week ended on Friday night about 11, I had my car loaded for a weekend road trip. Fueled on Mountain Dew and Little Debbie snack cakes, I barreled down the interstate in the dark of the night. I suppose the great thing about being in your early-twenties then was how I never second-guessed the sanity of doing this. I am not sure I would try this now. Anyway, I would pull into my parents' driveway early Saturday morning. My Mom usually worked on Saturday and my Dad usually had chores to do, so I found a bed and crashed until midday. Over the weekend though, I enjoyed being back home and visiting family and friends there. Early Monday morning, I loaded up my car and made the trip back to Jackson, most of it in daylight.

There came a time when I gave notice to my employer. They owed me parts of pay for six weeks when I left (spoiler alert: they eventually paid all of us what we earned). I remember that final day of work. I recall calling a friend to say goodbye. I remember that day was rainy. Autumn's leaves stuck to the pavement in the wetness. I left for work early that day just so I could revisit some of the old haunts one last time, if only in a passing car. I drove by the movie theatre, the mall, the Siam Room Chinese restaurant ("Welcome back!"), the Mexican drive-thru I sometimes visited after work, and other places that have now blended into time and memory. I went to work for the final time there, and, later after work, made a trip back to Georgia.

I've been back to Jackson several times through the years even though it has been a long time since my last visit there. I remember that place and my time there fondly, and on occasion, I miss those days. Of course, that place has changed from the way I remember. I am grateful though I can remember that place the way I do, a nice stop along the way in my life's journey.

Playlist for Road Trip: Jackson
Johnny Cash and June Carter: "Jackson"
Carl Perkins "Blue Suede Shoes"
Rob Jungklas "Memphis Thing"
Dwight Yoakam and Buck Owens "Streets of Bakersfield"
John Kilzer "Memory in the Making"
Jimmy Davis and Junction "Kick The Wall"
Blue Tears "Rockin' With The Radio"
Rosanne Cash "Runaway Train"
Tracy Chapman "Fast Car"
Cheap Trick "The Flame"
Keith Richards: "Take It So Hard"
John Hiatt: "Drive South"

How We Do Friday Night

 A recent Friday night, 7:00 P.M.

We're in for the night here. Yep, we are calling it a day this early even if the weekend has just started. Now while I have never been much of weekend warrior, previous Friday nights played out differently than tonight.

In high school years, a Friday night might have meant a football game or driving through our hometown for hours on end. In college, it might have meant hanging out with the gang or an occasional date. At other times in my life, a Friday night meant work.

Friday nights now are about our family. Usually it means a collective sigh of relief that we have made it through another week of school and work. It might mean leftovers from the refrigerator or pizza delivered to our door. Sometimes it might mean a movie or family game night.

This particular Friday, Jennifer had to work late. This meant Hannah and I were on our own most of the evening. I picked up Hannah from school with plans already thought out. Since the little girl likes pizza and is usually famished at the end of a school day, I planned an early supper at a local pizza joint. Hannah was all for it.

We pulled into the pizza parlor parking lot while the sun was still a brilliant yellow in the sky. I had already envisioned several things about this venture. I knew how we had to order. I knew how we had to get our drinks. I knew we then had to locate a table or booth. Soon enough, all that went as planned.

I ordered a salad. I knew before ordering how my guest would most likely help me pick through it. I knew the good stuff, the cheese and the cucumbers were very likely to find their way into her grasp. Tonight, she also absconded with the mushrooms. Then, disaster struck.

She picked up her soft drink, which was in a paper cup with a plastic lid. The lid separated from the cup. Coca-Cola and ice splashed onto the table and into my lap. Some of the dark liquid made it's way into a small cup of ranch dressing. I imagine it took three dozen napkins to clear the mess. I had not planned for this yet I determined I would not allow such a mishap to ruin the time ahead.

Soon enough, our pizza arrived. I ordered Hannah two slices of cheese pizza. I ordered a large pizza for me, knowing much of it would be carried home so Jennifer could have a late Friday night dinner or we could all have a big lunch of leftovers Saturday. It was all delicious.

During our time eating, Hannah looked at me once and told me to ask her if she was having a good time. I asked her at that moment and received a thumbs up. After eating some on one of her slices, I asked Hannah if she wanted a slice of the big pizza. She did and she ate about half a slice. About that time, she reminded me to ask her again about whether she was having a good time or not. Another thumbs up.

It wasn't long before we were boxing up the leftover pizza and on our way home. We got here as the sun began sliding behind the mountains to the west. The rest of the evening was pretty basic, a Disney movie and a Hannah FaceTime call with one of her friends from school.

Meantime, I sat soaking in another Friday night. I flipped through past years thinking how this night of each week was magical in some way that at that moment meant so much. Now though looking back over this day I think about hearing Hannah tell me about her day. I think about the time at dinner when we laughed and ate. I think about how these days are so special, more special than I deserve and much more special than I ever imagined they could be. Thumbs up in every way.

Not Always Easy

A part of life that never changes is how life is always changing. Since much of this type of change is gradual, most of us live with some understanding that we live in the time between we realize such changes. Some change takes place, we realize the change and react.

When I think about my life, I seem to end up measuring the way life is now with how it was when I first can recall. This takes me back to my childhood. At this time, I began putting the puzzle pieces together of who I was, and who was in my family. God blessed me with a wonderful immediate family. Beyond that He also blessed me with amazing aunts, uncles, and cousins.

As life moved on, changes came about. Family members moved away. Some drifted away. Some died.

I was one of those who moved away. Granted, it is just a few hours away but still the distance and time is great enough to make it difficult to get there easily at times.

Still, there are days when I wish I could go back to the way it was when I first understood how those pieces of the puzzle fit together so that all the family I have ever known would still be together. Of course, such wishing can never make such a thing happen. This leads to another part of life, when change happens we react in some way. Hopefully, we all adapt, you know, change, in some way and move forward.

Recently, a couple of those extended family members died. Under normal circumstances, juggling work and family schedules here would determine how I could pay my respects. After all, being part of such a close and large family taught me to honor and respect those of us who pass away when that time comes. With the added weight of global pandemic, that decision became harder.

As I waited to hear details of visitation and service, the inclusion of the virus added to the equation of attending. When the details became available, it became clear I would not be able to attend. Work and family matters here would not bend enough to allow me to be present.

Living away from most of my family means this happens at times. Each time I grapple with this, I end up feeling guilty. I feel as if I am not properly remembering and honoring what these family members have meant, still mean and will forever mean to me.

To some who read this, what I say here may not mean much. To some family does not matter very much for various reasons. To some stopping to reflect when someone dies is a waste of time, after all, life goes on for the living. For me, I cannot understand that type of thinking. I was raised differently I suppose.

Part of life is also about making hard choices then living with the consequences of those decisions. When I moved here over twenty-five years ago, I knew then how losing family members to death would be something that would bother me. Knowing I could not always be on hand to share tears, laughs and memories of loved ones with those family members who will always be a part of who I am is something I knew I had to accept at some level. I am not sure I have been successful at finding that place. I am not sure I really want to ever find that place. I know now when it happens, it is never an easy thing to go through. That is one thing that does not seem to change.